


Personal hell, personal heaven

by Tolpen



Series: Tales From Beyond the Veil [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, HeadQuarters Verse, How to deal with being dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 12:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10697352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tolpen/pseuds/Tolpen
Summary: Vol'jin died and he has to deal with the strange afterlife world somehow.For Deliliah for writing her HeadQuarters Verse. For every reader of WoWHQ for their love and support, but since I don't know their AO3 accounts, I can't "gift" it properly.





	Personal hell, personal heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deliliah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deliliah/gifts).



> HeadQuarters Verse is based on http://wowheadquarters.tumblr.com/ lists. However, this work doesn't include Taedal and is set between 54th and 55th list - aka why did Garrosh begin to appear in every list.

Voljin woke up with a terrible pain in his chest. He knew a terrible pain when he felt it, he had had one or two, he could distinguish between a bad bruise, a broken bone and a terrible pain. And this was definitely the third one. It hurt so much he though it would be the dead of him.

Then he remembered it _had_ been the dead of him. That means he died. And that means...

And that means he is dead.

The pain was slowly fading away, leaving behind a very bad feeling similar to after-taste, except this was after-pain – among other feelings there was fear the ache could return.

He sat up and opened eyes to look around. The surrounding looked very familiar. _Either I am not as dead as I should be,_ Vol'jin thought, _or the other side looks exactly like Grommash Hold._ Except for him it was empty. He stood up, because he couldn't sit there all day long, could he? Chances were that he in fact could but didn't want to. Cautious but curious, he walked outside.

The light outside was bright as he remembered in spite of the fact the sky was dark and full of stars of all colours. Vol'jin couldn't recognize no constellations, nor was he bale to find a moon, any moon. Not like he was paying too much attention to it, because he was amazed at the sight of Orgrimmar. Because it was the old Orgrimmar, not the city of war and iron, the Orgrimmar he loved to remember, buildings of white stone squeezed neatly between red rocks of Durotar with paved narrow streets curving between them just like a river would.

The city was empty.

And silent. As he was walking to the Valley of Honour, he couldn't help himself but think how the old Orgrimmar was actually similar to Silvermoon. It prided itself in duty, loyalty, honour, strength, and passion. It's red colour was the memorial of the wars but the light flashy colours were looking into the great bright future.

Vol'jin thoughts were still focused on this topic when he turned around the corner, so at first he didn't even know what was wrong with the view he got. He had to take a while of confused staring in front of himself to figure it out – among the red-and-white orcish houses were neatly seated silver-red-and-gold elven spires and bowers.

He didn't turn around to return for he had nowhere to return to in the first place. He had to keep going, so he did. After a while he left the red rocks and small houses behind and found himself in an elven city he didn't recognize. It was big, maybe even bigger than Silvermoon, Vol'jin couldn't see because the view was blocked by countless buildings. The path was wide and straight. And empty. The silence was deafening, even echo of troll's footsteps didn't dare to interrupt.

 

He could either return or enter the dark hall opened in front of him. Shadowhunters never return. Backtrack, retreat, visit the same places again, sure. But they never actually return. Not even in death. That, and Vol'jin was also damn curious.

Inside there was a circular pool with water like a melted gold. Vol'jin recognized magic when it was literally glowing into his face and therefore he declared the pool as a nasty arcane thing. It didn't help to erase his prejudice that an elderly mage in quite torn robe of Kirin Tor was sitting at the edge and staring into the pool.

The human didn't even turn around but he had to hear him because he said: “Hello.” He spoke Zandali with a little accent hinting at Drakkari.

“Hello,” Vol'jin answered in Common. That made the human chuckle and stand up.

“You look quite lost. And confused.”

Vol'jin couldn't deny that so he didn't. “It is just that I don't meet many humans speaking Zandali.”

The mage shrugged and in the dim light Vol'jin noticed bloodstains all over his robe. That kind of stains blood makes when it soaks thorough, not when it is splattered on cloth. “Humans speaking Zandali are just as common as trolls speaking Common.”

 _That isn't much,_ Vol'jin thought but didn't say it. He didn't have to anyway, the mage was smiling and obviously meant it as a joke. Instead Vol'jin asked: “Are ya local?”

“Sort of.”

“So I suppose I can ask ya. Where are we?”

The man took a deep breath and looked around. “This... This is quite a difficult one. I think that _afterlife_ is the proper term. What exactly do you decide to call it doesn't really matter. The Veil, the Fade, the Other side. But if you are asking me where is this place, I can't offer a better answer than _somewhere in Twisting Nether._ ”

Vol'jin looked around. “Dis certainly isn't what I imagined the Other side to be like.”

“It is built from memories,” the man sat back down and gazed at the glowing water. “You can walk from one memory into another. Your and someone else's memory may differ greatly and therefore you may visit the same place but it is never the same.”

The troll sat down next to the man. “I am sure I have neveh been here. It can't be mah memory.”

The mage chuckled again. “It is mine.”

Vol'jin thought for a while and then said: “So I can walk into someone else's memory 'n' not even know it?”

The man turned to him and smiled: “Someone else can walk into _my_ memory and _I_ don't even know it.” After that they were both silent for a while.

“What does it mean for me that this place is made from memories?”

The mage sighed. “First of all it is mostly made from your memories. It gets lonely here and sooner or later it will be just you and your memory and subconscious imagination which is quite real here too. What I am trying to say here is that you yourself build yourself personal heaven or hell here.”

Vol'jin blinked confusedly. “What is dat supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.” The mage stood up and took a step forward. He was actually standing on the water surface. He walked in the middle as if it was the most natural thing to do. In the light of the water glowing from beneath him, he seemed transparent. Vol'jin could actually see the wall behind the man.

“Who... Who are you?” asked the Shadowhunter.

The man was already fading away and disappearing into nothing, his answer was nearly inaudible: “Your curiosity would be the death of you.”

Damned mages and their arcane ways.

 

It was quiet and lonely. And utterly boring. Vol'jin was not sure what he was expecting from the afterlife but this certainly wasn't it. He was wandering thorough the Veil. The sin'dorei city changed to Dalaran, Dalaran became Ashenvale, the purple forest kept subtly changing until it was the familiar Stranglethorn which then faded into the Blasted Lands and its red wasteland became the deserted stones of Durotar. Never on his travels felt Vol'jin so alone. He hadn't seen a soul – no people, no animals, no birds, not even a damned fly.

As he was walking towards the rocky mountains which were holding the Valley of Trials, he had to admit to himself he was already missing the old ruffled mage he had met at the arcane well. He knew Valley of Trial but didn't go there because of it, he just needed to feel like he has a destination. It was more than clear to him that the Veil will change around him before he reaches the valley.

And he was right. The desert was still red but Vol'jin was quite sure that Durotar had no flying isles. What was more curious to him was the fact he had never been this place before. _Whose memory is this, and am I going to meet them?_ he wondered.

And there was the jungle. It started as stumps and dead trees at first but then there were small runts and sapling which went soon looming above him and the deeper he went, the taller and bigger they were. In a few moments he found himself surrounded by arboreal giants.

It was a jungle, little swampy and full of thorn vines. It felt nearly like Stranglethorn. Vol'jin didn't like to admit it but in fact it felt better than Stranglethorn. There is something in trolls' nature, something they feel calling them in the jungle, the need to be one with the primal forest life itself.

Vol'jin ran. He ran fast but not enough to exhaust himself. He was jumping from a rock to rock and vine to vine, he climbed among the branches, leapt thorough the air, making his way thorough the unfamiliar yet so familiar forest like a wild monkey. Despite being dead, he felt very much alive.

It came as unexpected as a thunder from clear sky. He saw _someone_. Vol'jin didn't really think about it, his head still full of euphoria from the forest run. He turned around and jumped off the tree, landing on the the ground with a back roll.

For sure he caught the men in front of him off guard and unprepared for such an encounter. But truth be told, so did the men catch Vol'jin.

They were standing in the middle of a forest road, staring at each other, unsure whether run away, go after each others neck or rather have a sarcastic remark.

Vol'jin being himself went for the later: “Personal hell. Now I know what dat mon meant.”

“Personal hell, sure. As if _you_ should be speaking,” growled Garrosh.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the mage in blooded robe was Kel'thuzad, and yes, Vol'jin met him at the Sunwell.  
> There might and might not be more stories added to this. Depends on readers' feedback.


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